After They Fight
by Layla Reyne
Summary: Felicity is surprised to learn how Oliver "processes" after they fight.


**After They Fight**

**By: Layla Reyne**

**Summary: **Felicity is surprised to learn how Oliver "processes" after they fight.

**A/N:** Knocking out two prompts with one story… Olicity Flash Fic Prompt #5: Red-Handed, and Naty/Bri's tumblr prompt (spiral!): Five times Felicity overheard Oliver masturbating + one time he heard her. As my dear friend Chelley (chellethebelle) would say, _**TEEHEE**_! And as always, many thanks to Sandra (dutchtreat) for the tireless beta support.

**Disclaimer: The characters and other things from Arrow are not mine. All due credit to the rightful holders.**

* * *

_The first time Felicity hears it, she thinks it must be the dress._

She doesn't miss the way Oliver's eyes give her a lingering once over when she steps out of the Foundry bathroom in the red, figure-hugging, designer gown he swiped from Thea's closet.

He grills her, relentlessly, for an hour on the floor plan of the underground casino, on what to expect inside, on how to get caught and let off with just a warning. She doesn't bother telling him he's wasting his breath, that she spent the better part of her childhood sneaking in and out of casinos. One even hired her as a "security consultant" when she was fourteen. She can read a casino floor in a matter of seconds.

After he gives her the all clear, she changes out of the gown and packs it up, planning to swing by Dig's place before heading home to get ready. Crossing the Foundry floor, she sees Oliver hanging by his knees at the top of the salmon ladder.

"Nine o'clock, the parking lot of the Dim Sum place a block away, right?" she confirms.

"See you there," he replies, as he rolls his abs and brings his hands back to the bar, unfolding his legs and dropping to the floor.

She's buckling her seatbelt when she remembers her contact case is in the Foundry bathroom. She'll need those tonight and it's her last pair. Sighing, she pushes open the driver-side door with her booted foot and hurries back into the lair.

Halfway down the stairs, she hears Oliver shout her name from the bathroom. His voice is strangled, tortured almost, and she rushes the rest of the way down the steps and across the Foundry floor toward him.

Her hand is hovering just above the bathroom doorknob when she hears her name again, only this time it's a long, guttural groan, followed by a heavy sigh. She freezes, her mind registering exactly what she's hearing.

Her brain promptly short-circuits, unable to process the very notion that Oliver may have been thinking about her while doing _that_. Sure, he stars in ninety-nine percent of her fantasies, but Felicity never thought she'd feature in his, not with the likes of gorgeous Laurel and McKenna Hall floating about his orbit.

The sound of running water jolts her back to the present, propelling her feet into action. Thirty seconds later, she's back in her car, forehead to the steering wheel, hyperventilating as she has the freak-out to end all freak-outs.

"It must have been the dress," she reasons with herself, over and over, for the next few hours until it's go time.

She's a ball of nerves when she meets up with Oliver again. So nervous she can't contain her babbling, making one inadvertent sexual comment after another. Thankfully, he reads her anxiety as mission-related, and she doesn't correct him.

She also vows to keep the dress.

* * *

_The second time Felicity hears it, she puts two and two together and realizes the first time might not have been the dress but the argument that preceded it._

This time, though, it isn't just one argument, but twenty-four hours of bickering back and forth. It starts with her explosion at the office after learning of her "promotion" to Executive Assistant. Things escalate in the Foundry later that evening when she calls Oliver out for being too self-centered to notice Dig and Carly broke up. Then, the next morning, she spitefully destroys the coffeemaker, _violently_, before his meeting with Sebastian Blood.

She makes sure that Oliver knows the blame for Mr. Coffee's death rests squarely on his shoulders.

She spends her afternoon avoiding him, not wanting to cause another scene at the office. She takes an extra long lunch, does her work from her old desk in the IT Department and visits the ground floor cafeteria several times to refill her coffee mug.

By the time five o'clock rolls around, she steps off the elevator on their executive level floor and finds it empty. Assuming Oliver's already left for the day, she gathers her things, shuts down her computer and strolls into his office to do the same.

That's when Felicity hears it – her name again – only this time it's more of a growl, punctuated by impatient grunts. Looking to her left, she sees a faint light spilling out from under his private bathroom door, and it takes everything in her not to join him this time.

But she does listen.

As his grunts increase in frequency and volume, she knows he must be stroking harder, faster, closer to his release, and when he shouts her name a final time, she has to brace her arms against his desk to stay upright on her wobbly knees.

Seconds later, she hears his belt hit the marble floor and the shower turn on, just as a text from Dig lights up the phone on his desk, letting Oliver know he's on his way up.

It's her signal to leave, _like now_. She glances one last time toward the bathroom, before rushing to gather her things from the floor where she dropped them. She's in the elevator lobby by the time Dig arrives.

"You okay?" he asks, brow furrowed with concern. "You look a little flushed."

Eyes widening, Felicity brings a hand to her cheek and feels just how warm her face must look.

"Oh, you know, the damn building A/C is acting up again," she covers, eyes looking anywhere but directly at Dig, as she scoots past him into the waiting elevator cab. "I'll see you at the Foundry," she adds, right before the doors slide closed.

Taking a deep breath, she leans against the cool, mirrored wall of the cab while her shaky fingers fumble with the clasp of her purse. Pulling out her phone, she opens the building systems control app, turns off the A/C on their floor and flips on the heat, jacking it up to eighty degrees.

She hopes she's managed to do so before Dig checks the thermostat.

* * *

_The third time Felicity hears it, she's both surprised and not._

Not surprised, because they had words in Russia. It might not have been their usual shouting match of late, but it was a fight nonetheless.

Surprised, because not six hours ago, Oliver had the She-bitch-from-hell's long, model legs wrapped around him.

If it's anyone's name she expects to hear over the comm unit that's charging in the bathroom, still _on_ apparently, the receiving end of which is in her purse, it's Isabel's.

Not hers.

Twisting in her seat, Felicity looks behind her. Isabel is fast asleep in her chair and it's dark behind the door to the small jet bedroom where John and Lyla are resting.

She turns back around and slinks further down in her seat, one hand nestling the comm unit in her ear while the other steals beneath her blanket and then her skirt. Pushing her underwear aside, she startles at finding herself soaking wet already. Closing her eyes, she works herself in time with Oliver, her breath hitching and gasping quietly with his, and when she hears Oliver finally reach his end, she bites the inside of her cheek to stifle her own shuddering moan as she reaches it with him.

* * *

_The fourth time Felicity hears it, she's confused._

It's been a tense few days for her and Oliver, full of ups and downs.

Their terse exchange of words after he railroads Barry.

Oliver's apology later that evening at the ill-advised welcome home party for Mrs. Queen.

And then their biggest blow up yet, after she reveals his secret identity to Barry in order to save his life.

She'd do it again, too, in a heartbeat, if that's what it came to. To borrow his own words, there was no other choice to make.

But even as angry as she is with Oliver, she's also worried about the effects of the various drugs that have been in his system over the past few hours, so when he calls Dig to the mansion to help Roy, she rides along.

Thea meets them outside of her room, showing Dig inside and mentioning that her brother seemed a "little off" earlier. Roy cries out in pain, and Thea rushes in after Dig, leaving Felicity to wander down the hallway and around the corner to Oliver's room. The door to his room is ajar and a quick peek inside reveals that the room itself is empty, but light and steam are swirling out from under the bathroom door.

Felicity turns to leave, but then, over the running water of the shower, she hears him groan a name that isn't hers.

_Shado_.

Her heart sinks faster than she thought possible. She curses her own stupidity for believing that maybe she occupied the same ninety-nine percent of Oliver's fantasies as he does hers. It's more likely, Felicity thinks, that she's the one percent exception.

With tears in her eyes, she bolts for the door, her step faltering over the threshold when she thinks she hears her name ground out behind her.

"I must be hearing things," she mutters, shaking her head and swiping at the tears on her cheeks, before dashing down the hallway and out of the mansion.

She can't help the bitter remark that escapes her lips the next day when Oliver mentions the other woman.

* * *

_The fifth time Felicity hears it, she knows for sure._

On a scale of one to ten, this fight is off the charts for them.

After sitting by Barry's bedside for days, with no improvement in his condition to show for it, she's tired, edgy, and running on caffeine and adrenaline-fueled fumes when Oliver questions whether her head is in the game. She strikes back immediately, questioning just how far _his_ _head_ is stuck up his own ass.

It's ugly, it's biting and it's full of heavy, unspoken accusations.

Standing toe to toe with Oliver, she's struck with two conflicting impulses. The dominant one is to haul off and slap him. The other one, the one she doesn't want to admit is there, is to grab him by the strap of his quiver, pull his face down to hers and lay one on him of an entirely different sort. She's never met another man who makes her want to wage war with her fists and her tongue at the same time.

Which is why, twenty minutes later, after she left to go get some air and Dig left to go home, throwing a "Go get 'em, tiger" over his shoulder, Felicity stomps back into the Foundry, full of righteous indignation, only to stop halfway down the stairs at a familiar sound and the sight of Oliver's hand full of something else.

He's still in his leather, hood unzipped and pants undone, sitting in her desk chair, head tilted back, eyes closed, with one hand clutching the edge of her desk and the other wrapped around his cock, stroking hard and fast.

She knows she should look away. She should turn around, tiptoe back up the stairs, head straight to the bar and down as many shots of tequila as she can in the five or so minutes he needs to finish.

But she can't.

Not when he's more beautiful than she's ever seen him.

Not when he's sitting at her workstation, panting her name, processing, in his own way, the passion and desire that crackles between them every time they argue.

Now she knows for sure. This is what he does, after they fight.

And right then, she can't stop herself from imagining how great the make-up sex would be, if they were together.

But that won't happen. Oliver won't let it, and knowing that they're locked in this ridiculous holding pattern, both wanting each other and Oliver keeping them apart because he feels like he doesn't deserve her or that he has to protect her, brings Felicity right back around to her anger.

She let's the door slam shut behind her as she storms out.

* * *

_The first time Oliver hears it, his process is thrown for a loop._

He gives Felicity and Dig the bare bones of his after-island story on the flight from Lian Yu to Beijing. It's easier that way, him in the front, piloting the propjet as he fills in the blanks over the headphones, not having to look either one of them in the eye.

But as soon as it's wheels up on the private jet Waller chartered for them from Beijing back to the States, Felicity lays into him with a barrage of questions and thinly concealed betrayal. She's furious at the ever-expanding holes in the "five years you apparently didn't spend on the island," as she so irately puts it.

Ever the referee, Dig's head swings back and forth as they argue, ready to wave the red flag if needed. But it's thankfully not. The minute the captain turns off the fasten seatbelt sign, Felicity grabs her purse and heads for the bedroom at the back of the plane, slamming the door shut behind her. Dig just smirks and shakes his head as he slides a pair of headphones over his ears and settles back into his seat, halfway to dreamland already.

Oliver slips out of his seat and into the bathroom at the back of the plane, closing the door behind him.

As always, Felicity's anger, her fight, the spirit and passion she couldn't keep buried even if she tried, which she never does, turns him on more than it should. She's so alive that he wants to take that light in his hands and kiss it, love it, cherish it, but he can't do any of those things for fear of extinguishing that which keeps him going day in and day out.

The best he can do is lower his pants and take himself in his hand, imagining what the warmth of his sun would feel like, what it would sound like.

And then suddenly he knows exactly what it sounds like.

He hears his name echo through the wall between him and the bedroom, moaned in a way that leaves no doubt in his mind exactly what Felicity is doing on the other side.

His already stiff cock becomes impossibly harder.

Leaning his forehead against the wall, he concentrates on the sounds Felicity's making, stroking himself in time with each gasp of his name and hitch of her breath. She reaches the edge quickly, and it's a good thing too as he's hanging on by a thread. One that snaps when she whimpers "please" and then groans his name a final time.

He blanks out, coming harder than he ever has before, only returning to himself when he hears a thud against the wall, directly opposite his forehead.

Then he hears her voice, husky and full of a smile he can't see. "Round six, draw."

Sagging against the wall, he can't help but chuckle. He knew, after the last time in the Foundry, that she'd heard him, maybe even seen him, but six times he'd been caught red-handed… _That_ he wasn't expecting.

But he can't seem to care.

And he can't wait for round seven, whenever their next fight may be.

**THE END**

* * *

_Hope you all didn't mind this little detour from REOQ! Back to updating that one after I hopefully survive my own wedding later this week ;) Can't thank you guys enough for your continued support and interest. Loving the Olicity fandom!_


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